


sunlight on the face of the moon

by pagkalunod (sisinala)



Series: Panaog [1]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: F/M, Lunasona, Marriage, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 05:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17037734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisinala/pseuds/pagkalunod
Summary: Vicente and Delang, shining





	sunlight on the face of the moon

                He asks if she kept the letter, the one where he poured his heart out only to have her rip it to shreds. Because she knew their fate, this fragile moment kept afloat by letters dancing around each other—both of them fighting for the chance to make the other confess.

                _Delang, my love,_ the letter began differently from all the others.

                _You told me in one of your letters that we could be sun and moon, you in the morning and me, hiding in the shadows. Of course you were referring to the way we stood for our principles. We were fighting, then, and you’ve slipped into your metaphors._

 _But I have been thinking that I_ am _your moon, shining only in your light. How much time have I spent here? Miles away from you, basking in your light every time I receive one of your letters. In the silence in between, I read them again and again, hoping to find you in between the words._

_I’m sorry I’m rambling again. But there is no other way to tell you for I do not have your prose nor your patience. I love you. That is all this letter should say. I love you and I wish I were there._

                She panics. Her heart only knew pain. She writes back, _“I’m sorry that I do not love you,”_ even when she did.

                How long ago had he sent that letter? Why does he still remember? Why does she?

                Now, staring in his eyes after months of avoiding him on the road, sitting in her house as she could not turn him away when he shows up at her door. Her only friend, sometimes. Because he knew her pain, he knew what surrendering did to her faith.

                “Delang?” Were his eyes always that intense? She considers lying.

                “Yes, yes I did.”

                Enteng changes tack afterwards, and she the sail—blowing in the wind.

...

                Was it surprising, the way they ended up promising each other at the altar?

                Maybe, to Delang—but not to Enteng. He knew, the moment he met her—even when she only had eyes for Anacleto. _She would be mine._

And now, she is.

                He holds her hand as long as she can, but she is too ephemeral. She was drifting from table to table, greeting their guests in that beautiful baro’t saya he couldn’t wait to rip off. It was their wedding night, and finally, he would be allowed. _Mahal, come back here._

                She does. They dance for an eternity. He twirls her in all the joy she has given him, all the love in her eyes—shining like the sun that she was.

                “Delang,” he whispers in her ear, softly like the way she was currently tucked in his chest and swaying softly to one of their favorite songs.

                “I bet you one glass of wine you’re going to say that you want to get out of here.”

                “You’re not going to drink one more glass, mahal. You’re almost drunk.”

                “Alright,” she sighs. Delang could feel the heat of the alcohol making her blush. Or was it Enteng? “I wonder why you haven’t drunk anything at all.”

                She was too soft in his arms, her head in his chest almost to his shoulder. Her breath was warm through the cloth. He kisses her forehead.

                “That’s for you to find out later, Adela.” She flinches at the name, and he could see the blush on her cheeks deepen. Oh, she likes that. He stores that in his memory.

                “My beautiful Adela, let’s get out of here.” She is given no time to refuse as he hauls her up on his arms.

                “Enteng!” She sounded so scandalized, but he knew she wanted to be out of here too. Their guests cheer them on, and Enteng walks her to the house.

                She was so small, so fragile that he worries that he might break her. If Delang knew what he was thinking, she would probably slap him. She looks up at him, the fading sunlight behind him as the sun sets. She looked so beautiful that he could not wait to ruin her. _Patience, Enteng. Make it good for her._

                He puts her back on her feet the moment he shuts the door behind him. His room would now be _theirs_ , the large emptiness now to be filled with her light.

                He is risen from his musings by the hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Of course she would want to take charge. It makes the blood drain from his head to down south. He kisses the side of her head when she’s done, pulls her flush against him and she squeaks. _How far can he push her?_ Ah, but that’s for later. Tonight is all about telling her he loves her with his body—and to atone for his sins. Tonight, she will be his cathedral.

                “Enteng,” she says, breathless for she feels him through her skirts.

                “Yes, wife?” He grasps one of her wrists and kisses her knuckles. He makes his way to her neck, in soft kisses and small praise. _So beautiful, my love. So beautiful just for me._

                “Enteng,” she says again, a hitch in the last syllable as he gathers her up for a kiss. It starts softly, like those before it, but Enteng found a fire in him. A fire that was preparing to consume them both. His hand threads through her hair, keeping her in place. Delang couldn’t help it, she moans.

                Vicente detaches the pins that hold her belo, and it falls silently to the ground. His hand passes her neck, and he unravels her alampay _._ His hand leaves her hair while the other arm tightens around her waist. His right hand becomes braver at the sound of her. It hesitates at the edge of her baro, caressing the skin of her waist with tentative fingertips.

                She puts her arms around his shoulders, grabbing at his hair—deepening their kiss. It emboldens him, and she squeaks when his hand finds her breast.

                She could feel his smirk on her lips. He squeezes and she moans. He presses her even closer.

                “Enteng…”

                “Delang.”

                “Can we—”

                “On the bed?” Enteng smiles. He doesn’t take his eyes off her as he lifts her up again. She is deposited carefully on the mattress, with his eyes on her as he takes off his shirt. He crawls up her body, watching her as she slowly takes off her blouse. Adela knows that if she let Vicente do what he wants, all that she wears—which she intends to give to their child—would end up in pieces on the floor.

                _Next time,_ he thinks, _next time I’ll rip it off._

                He tugs on her saya, busying himself with the folds as he works them slowly down her legs. He feels like it was already Christmas, unwrapping the gift he most wanted. Finally, she is down to her last layers. They cling upon her, highlighting her curves in the golden sunlight. Her eyes dance with embarrassment. To make up for her momentary hesitation, she takes it off in two movements.

                _Oh, Adela. You will be my downfall._

                In ordinary days, Enteng could not believe that she was his. In this moment, Enteng’s brain blanks out for a few seconds. She was golden, everywhere. He lifts his hand in disbelief, touching her hip with the softest caress of his knuckles. He knew that everywhere he touched, she would fit perfectly.

                He buries his face on her neck, groaning.

                “Adela, you have made me whole.” He didn’t know when exactly but some time ago in a haze, he swore to kiss his way down her body. He starts at the top of her head, down her arched brows, her eyelids, her cheeks. His hands roam, and he relishes at every small gasp, every little moan. Adela was trying to stop herself from making any noise. That needs to be remedied, but later.

                Delang’s head was floating, Enteng was turning her mindless. He was halfway down her body, kissing at her waist after depositing small kisses at her breast—carefully avoiding the peaks for some frustrating reason. He makes up for it with his fingers, and Delang almost screams.

                “You are too beautiful,” he says, as he kisses her between her legs. There was a pointed suck somewhere there that makes her jump. But he leaves, and he kisses his way down her legs, to her toes, where he places small kisses upon her feet.

                “You are my goddess.” What? What did he say? Delang’s head was swimming.  

                “Then serve me.”

                “As you wish.” He reaches up to touch her cheek, and then he pulls up her legs on his shoulders. Delang tries to sit up, but she’s stopped by his eyes—begging her to let him do this.

                He kisses her there, again. He does not stop this time. She clutches his hair. Their arguments have been dethroned. This was the best use for his tongue. He circles, he licks, he sucks. He employs two of his fingers. Delang gives up. She screams his name. Over and over, until he gets his fill.

                She is still shaking when he feels him again, holding himself above her. He prods.

                “Are you alright?” She nods, and he kisses the tears that she didn’t know were there. He fills her up to the brim. She is too full.

                “Enteng, wait, please.” Too much, too much.  

                “I love you, Adela.” He waits until she settles, slowly moving his hips. He waits until her hips move on their own accord. Then he sets a punishing pace.

                “I love you Enteng—ah!”                                     

                “Look at me, Adela. Only me.”

                “Yes. Enteng, please.”

                “Beg me, Adela.”

                “Please, Enteng. Please.” Delang almost faints. It comes too fast, and her peak pulls him up to his. Her back arches, presses all of her to him. She screams again, his name in broken moans. Enteng is too hot inside her, and once more she breaks. Enteng keeps groaning in her ear, mindless.

                She counts until they could breathe.

                She reaches about a hundred until Enteng lifts his head up, panting. He kisses her again.

                Delang’s consciousness falters, but before she was out she hears him.

                “Thank you."

                She falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and his arms around her.


End file.
